


Something Borrowed

by happyfluids



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyfluids/pseuds/happyfluids
Summary: "You looked cold," Leon explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Only then does Piers notice how tightly he’d been clinging to his own jacket and how badly his jaw ached from how long he’d been clenching his chattering teeth."Did I?" He reaches up to tug the fabric closer, and yet the lingering warmth of Leon’s body does little to settle the gooseflesh dotting his skin. If anything, Piers now finds himself shivering for an entirely different reason, and this wouldn’t be the first time he damns his pale complexion as a telltale heat creeps up to the tips of his ears.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was gonna do it so here it is!!! This is the first 'full length' fic I've uploaded in a hot minute, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

Piers doesn't remember the last time it rained in Wyndon.

Which isn't to say that that it doesn’t—the exact opposite, in fact. But fate has always graced him with sunny skies and a cloying warmth that itched his skin whenever he stepped foot in the sprawling city. To most people it would be considered a good fortune, or at least a pleasant convenience.

But like the proverbial curtains drawing close after the final verse, luck never fails to leave his side in search of greener pastures. Yet Piers is grateful for the dour weather, and it does wonders to nurture the heavy mood settling over him due to the post-adrenaline crash that always follows suit after every heated exhibition match. Though not a stranger to performing in front of large crowds, the energy thrumming through Wyndon has always been in a league of its own, and even now the excitement lingers and layers on his skin much like the static of the storm howling high above him.

It's why he's lingering outside of the stadium long after the crowds have died down, taking shelter underneath an overhang while nursing a half-burned cigarette. There's few things in the world that can calm his nerves better than nicotine, and so he indulges in the vice while watching the occasional person duck from one makeshift shelter to the next as they rush through the cobblestone streets to their destination.

'Probably should bring an umbrella next time,' Piers muses in the same offhand manner that reflects most Galarians’s opinions when it comes to rain. He doesn’t bother to check over his shoulder when he hears footsteps approach, doesn't even consider that they're for him until the culprit pops into his peripheral and Piers catches an all too familiar face frowning at him.

"You're still here," Leon states, but it sounds more like a question so Piers treats it as thus.

"Corvicab's runnin' late." He gestures at the rain with his occupied hand, the motion swift and sudden enough to shake off flecks of ash. "Not surprised. They're probably all occupied gettin' everyone else home."

Piers supposes Leon's confusion is justified though. Even the other gym leaders have left a good half an hour ago, splitting off into groups according to everyone's own individual preferences and commitments. That makes Piers the odd man out since he just wants to return to Spikemuth, but even then he’s in no real rush to go home.

"I guess you've got a point… I don't think I've seen it pour this hard in a while," Leon muses, though the furrow in his brows tells Piers that his answer wasn’t a particularly comforting one, especially when Leon clears his throat and continues. "You can always wait out the storm at my place if you want."

It's a sweet gesture, one that at least deserves Piers's full gratitude. He turns to face Leon fully, studying him momentarily before offering a muted smile.

"That's mighty gentlemanly of you, Champ, but I know you've gotta see the Chairman and I ain’t about to freeload off your good graces."

Leon’s frown deepens. “But-”

“It’s fine,” Piers cuts him off, because it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t want Leon to make it one. “Really.”

Piers steals a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke fill and swirl in his lungs before turning away from his company and releasing a steady stream of wispy grey into the damp air. Heavy silence falls between them and it’s hardly comfortable, but Piers convinces himself that he doesn’t mind. Not Really.

So when he catches movement from the corner of his eye he figures Leon's about to scamper off to nurse his pride, maybe offer Piers one of his Champion worthy smiles before ducking out of sight to lick his wounds in private. However, he’s caught off guard when something soft and heavy drops on his shoulders, and Piers stiffens out of reflex until he realizes what Leon is doing.

Leon, who suddenly seems more interested in boring holes into the buttons he’s fumbling with as opposed to looking Piers in the eye. And Piers is probably looking a little comical himself now, his own eyes widening a fraction while the heat of Leon’s hands spreads over his own face. There’s a moment where Leon’s thumb brushes over Piers’s chin, the touch lingering too long to be considered accidental, before he finally retreats to smooth the heavy fabric over so that it sits squarely over Piers’s frame.

Neither men speak at first, but Leon eventually breaks the silence as he runs a hand over the sleek faux fur-trimmed edge like it’s a touchstone.

"You looked cold," Leon explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Only then does Piers notice how tightly he’d been clinging to his own jacket and how badly his jaw ached from how long he’d been clenching his chattering teeth.

"Did I?" He reaches up to tug the fabric closer, and yet the lingering warmth of Leon’s body does little to settle the gooseflesh dotting his skin. If anything, Piers now finds himself shivering for an entirely different reason, and this wouldn’t be the first time he damns his pale complexion as a telltale heat creeps up to the tips of his ears.

Leon just hums, managing to surprise Piers yet again by wandering over and plopping down on a nearby bench.

Piers stares down at him incredulously. "What are you doin’?"

Leon shrugs. "Waiting with you."

Now it’s Piers’s turn to frown, brows pinching together as he clicks his tongue. He never would’ve considered his company to be the stubborn type, but here he goes proving him wrong in all the wrong ways. "Leon, the meetin-"

Leon raises his hand to cut him off, but it's the words that follow that throw Piers off kilter. "I think the Chairman will understand if I’m late because I wanted to make sure my boyfriend got home in one piece."

Boyfriend. Suddenly Piers's tongue sits like lead in his mouth, and he swallows his words with a grimace before looking away. He fiddles with his cigarette, the stick now on its last legs as Piers sucks up the dredges in an attempt to chase a calm that's nowhere to be found.

It's only until Piers no longer feels Leon's gaze on him that he chances a look, now finding his company peering towards the rain with a thoughtful expression. And it’s somehow pouring even harder now, with the wind howling and whipping through their hair and Piers’s own breath rapidly replacing smoke. Yet Leon remains unaffected, and Piers would even go so far to say that he’s actually enjoying himself if the pretty smile stretched over his lips is any indication. Masochist.

But then Piers remembers Leon mentioning that he always loved rainy days, confessing that it never failed to bring back a flood of memories of dashing across the damp fields with his brother, crashing into every puddle and chasing after Wooloos before they were inevitably ushered inside to warm themselves with heaping bowls of curry.

Eventually Piers heaves a quiet sigh as he kisses his cigarette a final time before grinding it into the nearest rubbish bin. Despite having been thrown off balance by Leon's earnest declaration, Piers finds it easy to wander over to the bench, one hand lifting the cape so that it doesn't drag on the ground before swooping the fabric beneath him and taking a seat beside Leon.

"... Sorry."

Leon whips his head and offers Piers something dangerously close to a pout.

"For what?”

Piers hooks a finger over his choker and presses his thumb into a spike, reveling in the flash of pain that manages to briefly clear his head. "For not...” He pauses, sighs, and tries again. “I'm just not used to this. Never really bothered with datin’, so I ain't got much to go off of."

He doesn't count the times he sought company in the dead of night, midnight flings spurred from the intoxicating high that always followed a successful show. To Piers, sex was a comforting risk, primal and guttoral and unrelenting. And yet love could be considered a beast of far greater magnitude, and Piers finds himself cowled by its presence because of how easily he could fuck everything up. 

Leon's chuckle drags Piers from his thoughts, however, and this time he’s met with a different smile from before. Warmer. Goofier even, with the way the corners of Leon’s eyes crinkle and how he shows a touch too much teeth. It’s the kind of smile never released on the front page of tabloids because it made Leon look both wonderfully and sinfully human. "Last I heard that's not exactly something you should apologize for."

"Suppose not." Piers shrugs, but this time he offers a smile of his own, a crooked upturn that barely tugs the corner of his mouth. Yet that's somehow more than enough to make Leon _beam_ , and suddenly Piers is too self-aware and too self-conscious as he hikes his shoulders to his ears and clings tighter to the cape.

"If it makes you feel any better…it’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I don’t really know what I’m doing either" Leon encourages as he rubs the back of his neck.

And Piers believes it, but it's of no wrongdoing on Leon's part. He doubts he has much of a chance to date when the entirety of Galar depends on him to be the poster boy for the whole region, plus the PR nightmare involved with dating the Champion would be enough to deter most people. It certainly did for him, for a time.

But as Leon sits there, studying him in a way that makes his heart pound to the beat of every power ballad in existence, Piers finds himself wanting to be a little shameless as well.

And so without thinking he reaches out to grasp Leon's hand. The motion nearly startles them both, but Piers tightens his grip before he can give himself any chance to retreat.

"Then this feels like the right thing to do, aye?"

The comment almost comes out as flippant, and Piers isn’t really asking for confirmation, but Leon is a kind soul and offers his approval anyway by shifting his hand so that their fingers entwine.

"Yeah, it does."

While it’s not perfect, the silence that drapes over them this time around can almost be considered comforting. Piers savors it for what it is, turns it in his head and studies it in the way all that artistic types have the tendency to do because they all love waxing poetic at anything and everything that will give them the time of day. He shifts closer until their knees bump together, then until their thighs are pressed side by side. Piers can feel the impressive swell of muscle hidden poorly behind the fabric of Leon's shorts, can feel the warmth radiating from the other man's body and seeping deep into his own worn and weary bones.

There's something here that strokes the flames in Piers's chest and warms him from the inside out. He ducks his head into the blissfully soft fabric of Leon's cape and breathes deep, savoring the faded scent of Leon’s cologne and finding himself yearning. 

Running his thumb over Leon's hand, Piers bows his head just enough for his cheek to graze the other man's shoulder. He glances up and chases after Leon's gaze as if seeking permission. And Leon seems to catch the hint, because he shifts and pulls Piers closer, and Piers embraces that invitation by pressing himself entirely into Leon's side.

They wait like that for whoever knows how long—Piers hasn't really been keeping time from and he certainly isn’t going to start now. But at some point, when they're both sinking into each other's embrace while the wind howls louder than ever, he mutters a faint—

"Charizard was a real pain in my arse earlier."

And that’s enough for the spell of calm to break between them as Leon suddenly bursts out laughing and grins at him like his life depends on it.

"Guess he was, but he was just trying to impress you."

Piers scoffs, but the cheeky smile that follows suit betrays his own amusement. "Somethin’ tells me he wasn't the only one tryin'."

Now it's Leon's turn to look bashful, but before he can defend his pride he’s cut off by something seemingly looming over Piers’s shoulder. Piers twists his head and shifts to follow the other man's gaze as they both look up... up... up until—

"Guess the rain's finally stopping," Leon points out, and Piers gaze shifts further past them, past the faint oranges and blues of the late afternoon sky and towards the ominous grey still lingering in the distance.

Maybe there's something significant to be said with how the sky only seems to part above them, but Piers finds himself far more interested by how the heavy pattering of rainfall is gradually replaced by Leon's steady breaths. He reaches up and combs a hand through the tangled bird nest that was once Leon’s beautiful mane, and the pair share a mournful smile before bursting into a fit of chuckles.

But Piers discovers that the moment is both a blessing and a curse, because not long after the clouds clear the telltale sign of a Corvicab approaches them from a distance. Instead of relief Piers finds himself disappointed, though he says nothing of the sort as he finally stands with only the barest hint of hesitation.

Piers isn't sure when it’s appropriate to retreat, but Leon answers that question for him when he stands and proceeds to tug Piers towards his ride, releasing his hand only once the pair stop in front of the Corviknight.

Piers finds himself missing the warmth dearly, but he says nothing as he reaches up to unclasp the cape from his neck with every intent to return the article to its owner.

That is, until Leon reaches up to stop him.

"Keep it," Leon insists, and when Piers opens his mouth to protest-it’s his _sponsorship_ cape and it’s still _cold_ —his smile just widens. "It's okay. It’s worth it knowing a part of me will be with you to take you home."

For as seemingly daft as Leon can be sometimes, he has the infuriating tendency to say the right thing at the right time. Piers studies him, takes in the sunset casting a soft halo around the other man's frame just as Leon leans in to capture his lips with a chaste kiss. The touch alone is intoxicating, and Piers finds himself chasing after Leon when the other man retreats just enough to whisper a faint 'I'll see you later' into his mouth.

Suddenly returning to Spikemuth is the last thing on Piers's mind.

Reaching up to readjust Leon's snapback once they part, Piers clears his throat before speaking up with a soft—

"Actually, is that invitation to your flat still open?"

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally supposed to only be a one shot but I ended up giving myself some wiggle room in case I wanted to expand on the idea. Either way, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, I ended up illustrating something for this fic, which you can find here: https://twitter.com/happyfluids/status/1237886499439259649


End file.
